


Caught In Your Sugar, Your Sour, Your Salty and Sweet

by QueerOnTilMorning



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Richie Tozier, Dirty Talk, Eddie Kaspbrak Lives, Eddie Kaspbrak Tops, Established Relationship, Light Spanking, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, ass eating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:34:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23370073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueerOnTilMorning/pseuds/QueerOnTilMorning
Summary: Richie has a bad dream. Eddie helps him get back to sleep.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 43
Kudos: 452





	Caught In Your Sugar, Your Sour, Your Salty and Sweet

**Author's Note:**

> Title is a line from "Taste" by Betty Who, truly one of the horniest songs ever recorded. I'm struggling with some longer projects, but in the meantime, have a little porn!

Eddie wakes up the instant he hears Richie gasp.

He's a light sleeper these days, since cutting way back on the pills he was taking. Sometimes that annoys him, like when Richie breaks the silence of their bedroom with a gigantic snore. But right now, he's grateful to be so easily awakened, because he can tell immediately that Richie is having a nightmare.

It's always the same nightmare. Sometimes it's Paul Bunyan with the ax, sometimes Henry Bowers with the knife, sometimes the clown with Its drooling leer, but underneath the superficial details, Richie's nightmare is being back in Derry. He's dying, or he's watching Eddie die, or all their friends; he's realizing that the last year, Eddie's divorce, moving in together, Richie coming out, has been a cruel, fleeting fantasy in the moment before doom. Richie is floating in the Deadlights again, and Eddie has to save him.

He's done this before; he knows the drill. Richie lies sprawled out on his back, the night too hot for cuddling even though they're already deep into autumn. Eddie moves close to him, crosses a leg over one of Richie's to graze Richie's hairy calf with the ball of his foot. He rests his palm on Richie's bare stomach, rubbing in gentle circles. Even in nothing but his stupid taco-print boxers, Richie has a thin sheen of sweat over his skin.

"Richie," Eddie says--low, but louder than a whisper. He settles his hand more firmly on Richie's belly, wanting Richie to feel him, to wake up knowing he's here.

Richie sucks in his breath, hard and sharp like he's in pain. "Richie," Eddie says again, his lips close to Richie's ear. "You're dreaming. It's just a dream."

"Eds?" Richie's eyelids flutter.

"I'm here, baby," Eddie says, his hand resuming its slow circles, fingers stroking through the curly dark hair that covers Richie's torso. "I'm here. You're safe."

"Eddie," Richie sobs, twisting in his arms. He raises his hands as if to push Eddie away, but Eddie's expecting this and dodges easily.

Lowering his forehead to touch Richie's, close enough to feel his breath, Eddie says again, "I'm here."

Richie thrashes once more, and then his eyes open. "Don't--oh fuck,  _ Eds-- _ "

"It was a dream," Eddie murmurs. "I'm right here. You're safe."

With a groan, Richie turns toward him, wraps his arms around Eddie like a drowning man clinging to a raft. He's shaking as he buries his face in Eddie’s chest, skin prickled with goosebumps despite the heat. Eddie hugs him back, combing his fingers through Richie's hair in the way he knows calms him. Their bodies reassure each other, heartbeat calling to heartbeat:  _ I'm here, I have you, we are alive and not alone. _

After a while, Richie lifts his head. He hasn't cried, but Eddie can see that his eyes are wet. "Sorry for waking you," Richie says, going for nonchalant and missing by several solar systems.

Eddie runs a hand down Richie's back. "I don't mind," he says, meaning it, knowing that  _ Richie _ knows he means it. "Bad one tonight?"

"No worse than normal," says Richie. Eddie doesn't say anything. He knows just how fucked both of their standards for "normal" are.

"Thanks for being here," Richie adds after a pause.

"It's my bed too," Eddie reminds him.

Richie laughs, a small laugh but a real one, and something in Eddie's chest untwists. "I love you," he says.

"I love you," Eddie says back. Then he kisses Richie, soft and slow: a grounding kiss, a kiss to remind him that this is real. Not the nightmares, but this, their warm mouths finding each other in the dark.

Richie's lips part, and Eddie's tongue wanders across, but not quite into, his mouth. He feels Richie shifting, the desperate clutch of fear softening into something sweeter without loosening his grip. This, too, is part of their ritual for banishing bad dreams, though only sometimes. Eddie doesn't push it. Richie will let him know if he wants more.

Tonight, it seems, he does. Richie's hands roam up and down Eddie's back, as though searching for a way to pull him closer, though they're already so entwined they barely count as separate bodies. His tongue teases Eddie's lower lip, then pulls back, making Eddie chase it. As Eddie growls into his mouth, pursuing, demanding, Richie grinds against Eddie's thigh and Eddie feels his cock growing thick and hard.

"Yeah?" Eddie asks, pulling back just enough to look Richie in the eyes.

"Please," Richie whispers. "I need it." Between the two of them, that phrase has come to mean something quite specific, something that lights a fire low in Eddie's belly.

"Okay, baby," he says, and this time he kisses Richie  _ hard. _ He tangles one hand in Richie's curls and pulls his head back, pushing deep with his tongue, forcing Richie's jaw open wide.

Eddie shoves Richie back on the bed and climbs on top, straddling his hips. He's growing hard from the sounds Richie makes underneath him, the needy gasps and whimpers that Eddie knows mean _ don't stop. _

Not that Eddie has any intention of stopping. He wraps his hands around Richie's wrists and pin them to the bed. Richie moans, his mouth seeking Eddie's, but Eddie pulls back. Their lips barely graze each other.

"Eds," Richie whines.

As though relenting, Eddie lowers his head. Richie's lips part expectantly, but instead of kissing him, Eddie ducks down, catching Richie's earlobe in his teeth--none too gently.

Richie gives a hum that's half pain, half bliss. It's a delicious sound, and it makes Eddie want to bite him again, more, harder, to fucking _ devour _ him. He lets go of Richie's hands to grab his hair again, pulling his head to the side so Eddie can sink his teeth into the muscle where neck meets shoulder. From the noise Richie makes, he knows he's leaving a bright, dark bruise.

Eddie pulls back to admire the teeth marks he's left, the blood rushing to the tender spot even as he watches. Richie is fully hard now. His hips buck frantically under Eddie's weight. Eddie grins down at him, and Richie strains up again for a kiss. Eddie tilts his head back, just out of reach, savoring the way Richie hisses as he pulls against Eddie's fists in his hair.

"Like that?" Eddie asks, knowing the answer is yes.

"Please," Richie moans. Eddie's eyes are fixed on Richie's mouth. It's so pretty like this, wide and desperate. He loves that he can drive Richie crazy, to the edge of incoherence, just by withholding a kiss.

He dips toward that mouth again, just to feel Richie struggling, reaching for him even though it hurts, maybe  _ because _ it hurts. Eddie breathes against Richie’s lips, almost lets them touch, then pulls away.

“Maybe later,” he whispers.

Richie’s head falls back on the pillow. “Fuck. Goddammit. Fucking  _ tease. _ ”

“Think I’m teasing?” Eddie grinds his hips, bearing down on Richie’s erection.

“You’re like--what’s the opposite of a service top? You’re a no-service top. An out-of-service top.”

That startles a laugh out of Eddie. “Fuck you, dude. You workshopped that, didn’t you?”

Richie smiles that big, goofy smile. “Maybe.”

Abruptly, Eddie climbs off Richie. “Turn over,” he says, his voice dark. "And take those off," he adds with a gesture toward the taco boxers. Richie’s antagonizing him on purpose, and he knows exactly what that means. Richie might play at being a brat, but he’s very good at communicating what he needs--and Eddie loves being the one to give it to him.

"Yeah," Eddie sighs as Richie pushes up to his hands and knees. "Just like that." He strokes both hands up Richie's thighs to cup his ass, spreading his cheeks gently apart. Richie, head hanging down between his forearms, trembles.

Eddie's already fucked Richie once tonight, before they fell asleep: long and slow, followed by a hot shower. He groans with delight when he sees Richie's hole, still stretched like it's been waiting for him.

"Are you too sore, baby?" he asks, tracing a fingertip close to Richie's rim. He loves how the ring of muscle flutters at his touch, how Richie's thighs tense.

Richie mumbles something into the mattress.

"Little louder, sweetheart."

Turning his head to look over his shoulder, Richie says, "I'm sore but I can take it."

"Dangerous thing for a man your age to say," Eddie points out.

"Mmm, yeah," Richie moans. "Talk risk factors to me, baby. Do I need to get my cholesterol down? Have I been a bad boy?" He wiggles his ass in a parody of seductiveness that Eddie somehow finds both endearing and hot.

"You're so annoying," he says fondly.

"Better punish me, then," Richie says.

Eddie kneads his fingers into the muscle of Richie's ass, keeping him spread wide. Then, instead of reaching for the bottle of lube in the nightstand, he leans down and drags the flat of his tongue over Richie's hole.

Richie actually howls. There's no other word for it--it's a howl, high-pitched and full-throated and exquisite. The noise thrills Eddie, and he chases it, licking a slow circle around Richie's rim, soothing the skin that he fucked red and tender only hours earlier. Richie tastes like sweat and musk and a bitter hint of soap from their shower It doesn't take Eddie long to fall into a comfortable rhythm, not pushing inside yet, just lavishing his hot wet tongue where he knows it'll make Richie crazy.

Richie's thighs are already shaking as he rocks back against Eddie's face. He's gasping, sobbing, his self-control shattered with one firm stroke of Eddie's tongue, and Jesus, Eddie  _ loves _ this. He loves being the only one who gets to hear the delirious sounds spilling from Richie's mouth. He loves making Richie hurt and then kissing it better. He loves the power.

At first Eddie was freaked out by this--the way he craves Richie's pained moans, the dark, sweet satisfaction when he sees a mark he left with his teeth or his hands. Having stifled any hint of his real desires for so many years, he was overwhelmed by the intensity when he allowed himself to want. They spent a lot of time talking through it. Richie reassured Eddie that he'd never say yes to something he didn't want, that he'd never let Eddie take it too far.

It's an exercise in trust, getting rough with Richie because they both like it, allowing himself to enjoy control. It always feels a little like falling, letting himself want this much, letting himself _ take. _

With his face still buried in Richie's ass, Eddie lightly slaps the back of his thigh. The angle is bad and it doesn't land as hard as either of them would prefer, but apparently it's the thought that counts. Richie keens with appreciation, arching his back in the way that means  _ more, please. _

Eddie complies, alternating hands to scatter stinging blows up and down both Richie's thighs and over his cheeks. His tongue keeps working at the same pace, swirling around Richie's hole but never quite dipping into it. Richie shoves his face into a pillow to muffle his wailing. It doesn't make much of a difference.

When Eddie pulls back to catch his breath, he can see that Richie's leaking onto the sheets, a pool of precome mixed with Eddie's saliva dripping down from his crack. Eddie will be repulsed by this in a few minutes, but right now it just makes him _ burn, _ his own cock heavy and aching from neglect, and he dives in to eat Richie's ass again with renewed vigor.

This time, he pushes his tongue into Richie's eager hole, slowly at first, then faster, as the helpless pillow-smothered noises climb into a new octave. It's easy to lick past the loose rim, fucking Richie in fast, short strokes. Once Eddie has him wet and open and riding his face with abandon, he slides in two fingers alongside his tongue.

Richie  _ grinds _ back on him, clenching desperately around Eddie's fingers, making sounds that aren't words but are somehow still obscenities. Eddie lifts his head just enough to say "Yeah, you love that, don't you, baby?"

"Yeahhhh," Richie whines. Eddie fucks him deeper, curling his fingers in the way he knows Richie likes. Richie rocks on his hands and knees, fucking back onto Eddie's hand, but his limbs are shaking and he keeps losing the rhythm. He's close, Eddie realizes, _ incredibly _ close, and it sends a pang all the way down Eddie's spine and into his balls.

Eddie pulls his fingers out of Richie's ass, laps at the hole wetly, practically drooling, then pushes back in, this time with three fingers.

"Look how bad you want it," he murmurs. "Look at your gorgeous hole just  _ swallowing _ me. Bet you could take my whole hand if I told you to, couldn't you? Your greedy ass would love it if I fucked you with my fist."

"Yeah--no--oh fuck, oh God,  _ please _ Eddie I can't--" Richie is writhing now, forehead against the mattress as his arms give out.

"You need to come, sweetheart?"

"Yeah,  _ yeah-- _ " He shifts his weight, pushes up on one hand so the other can reach for his dick.

Eddie stops him with a gentle "No."

"Edd- _ eee, _ " Richie begs, his voice breaking.

"Oh, baby," Eddie says in a dangerously soft voice. "Am I not fucking you good enough? Am I letting you down that bad, that you can't even come for me without touching yourself?"

Richie groans, deep and wordless, and Eddie slaps his ass again. "Answer me," he says. "Am I fucking you good?"

"So good, so good, Eddie please…"

"Am I giving it to you just the way you like it?"

"Yes, Jesus, fuck, love the way you fuck me--"

"So are you going to come for me?"

Richie lets out a shout, his cock thrusting frantically against nothing as he comes in hot spurts all over the sheets. Eddie slows his pace but keeps fucking him, riding it out until Richie collapses, shaking, into the mess he's made of their bed.

Still, he doesn't give him time to catch his breath. Eddie's dick is so hard it hurts, and he needs to do something about it, _ now. _ "Roll over, baby," he whispers, nudging Richie's shoulder as he shoves his boxer briefs down. Richie moans and twitches halfheartedly, so Eddie does it for him, manhandling Richie onto his back.

"Are you wet enough?" Eddie asks.

"Mmnnnhhh," Richie replies.

Holding his legs apart, Eddie leans over and spits directly into Richie's asshole. Spent as it is, he sees Richie's cock twitch at that. Then he hoists Richie's legs up over his shoulders and lines up his own cock with Richie's dripping entrance.

"You ready, love?"

Though Richie's eyes are glassy, they lock on Eddie's with ferocity as he whispers "Fuck yeah." In one smooth motion, Eddie fucks all the way into him. Richie's mouth falls open, but his voice must be wrecked, because he doesn't make a sound.

"Baby," Eddie sighs. God, Richie feels so fucking good inside, hot and wet and wanting, muscles working as if to pull Eddie in deeper. He eases out, then slams back in. Richie bites his lower lip, eyelashes fluttering. His face and chest are red from overstimulation, and Eddie could just about come from  _ looking _ at him like this.

Sweat rolls down Eddie's neck, landing in Richie's chest hair. Even though he just came a few hours ago, he knows this isn't going to take long. He's close, he's  _ so _ close. As Richie digs his fingernails into Eddie's back, he loses any semblance of restraint, pounding in so hard and deep he  _ knows _ Richie will ache in the morning.  _ Good, _ Eddie thinks.  _ You're gonna know you're mine. _

Richie finds enough of his voice again to start making these little mewling, fucked-out, intoxicating sounds. "Yeah?" Eddie asks, breathless. "This what you needed?"

Richie squeezes his eyes shut and rasps, "Need your come," and Eddie's brain fucking _ melts. _ He can't reply, he can't think, he can't do anything except bury himself in the primordial heat of Richie's body.

Richie doesn't seem to realize that Eddie's verbal processing center is totally offline, apparently mistaking his silence for ambivalence, so he gets  _ persuasive. _ "Please, Eds," he begs, his voice still sounding shattered. "I want your come so bad, want you to fill me up, please, babe, give it to me, I've been so good, I  _ need it… _ "

Eddie wants to answer, wants to say he'll give Richie anything, everything he asks for, always--wants to call him  _ love  _ and  _ sweetheart  _ and  _ trashmouth _ and  _ whore, _ make him a thousand filthy promises--but he can't find the words. He can't find any words except the one he says, over and over, as he comes so hard it feels like he's turning inside out: "Richie, Richie, Richie."

He falls into the universe, and the universe catches him.

The next thing Eddie's aware of is Richie poking him in the ribs. "What?" he grumbles from where his face is pressed into Richie's chest.

"Babe, you know how muscle is heavier than fat?"

"What?" says Eddie again.

"Yeah, well, you're jacked as shit and you weigh a _ million fucking pounds,  _ so please get off my lungs."

Eddie rolls onto his back, so he's lying next to Richie, nuzzling into his armpit. "Better?"

"So good," Richie says, and kisses Eddie's forehead. "Your dick is way better than therapy."

Eddie snorts. "Should I charge you one-twenty an hour too?"

"That's kind of hot," Richie says, looking like he's seriously considering it, so Eddie hits him with a pillow.

"I love you," he adds, after Richie grabs the pillow and arranges it under his head.

"I love you too," says Richie. He throws an arm over Eddie's waist and curls around him, as if to drift off to sleep.

"Hey, no," Eddie protests. "The sheets are disgusting. Do not fall asleep right now! We're changing the sheets!"

Richie regards him with resigned amusement. "At two in the morning?"

"If you're awake enough to fuck--" Eddie starts, and Richie has heard this enough times that he finishes in unison, "You're awake enough to change the sheets."

"You are so weird," Richie says, but he climbs out of the bed and helps Eddie strip the bed. He refuses to remove the pillowcases, though: "I did  _ not _ jizz on our pillows, you growth-stunted lunatic."

"Fine," Eddie concedes, and gathers up the sheets to carry them down the hall to their laundry room.

By the time he gets back, Richie is fast asleep on the bare mattress. Eddie will give him shit for this in the morning, but right now he just stands in the doorway for a long moment, not bothering to hide his smile as he gazes at the man he loves. Then he lies down on the mattress beside Richie. The hot night covers them both like a blanket as Eddie whispers, "Sweet dreams."


End file.
